At the height of the ball a domino kissed Madame de S——, who shrieked aloud. The dining-room, with its gallery, the servants dressed as sixteenth century pages, and the brilliant lights, all combined to remind one of Belshazzar’s feast, in Martin’s painting.
The emperor changed his domino, but any one could have recognised him a league away. The empress wore a white burnoose and a black mask which did not in the least disguise her.
There were many dominoes, which were for the most part immensely ugly. The duke de S—— strutted about like a tree, and the imitation was really excellent. Considering the story told of his wife, the disguise was a little too conspicuous. If you have not heard the story, here it is, in a word. His wife, who was a demoiselle (whose mother, by the way, was to have been my godmother, so I have heard), went to Bapst and bought a tiara costing sixty thousand francs, saying that she would return it the following day if she decided not to take it. She returned nothing, neither money nor tiara. Bapst demanded his diamonds, and was told that they had departed for Portugal, and, to make the story short, they were found finally at the Mont-de-Piété, where the duchesse de —— reclaimed them for fifteen thousand francs. This is highly commendatory of the times and of women!
Another scandal. At M. d’Aligre’s ball a woman was pinched black and blue by a husband who was not less muddled in his head than M. de ——, but who was more violent. The woman screamed and fainted. A general scene followed! They did not throw the jealous man out of the window, which would have been the only sensible thing to do. Good-bye.
CCXV
Saturday, May 12, 1860.
... I congratulate you on having beautiful weather and sunshine. Here it rains incessantly, and when it is not raining, the heat is full of humidity. There is a storm in the air, and nervous people like myself are as comfortable as violin cords near the fire. To complete my miseries, I am obliged to stay here until the end of the season, which seems to be far from its close. Now you know all about my plans, and I should like to have some information about yours, of which I have not even a suspicion.
An amusing thing happened not long ago. M. Boitelle, prefect of police, supposed to be the best-informed man in Paris, learned through the report of his trusty agents that the Minister of State, M. Fould, had spent the night in the house which he had built in the faubourg Saint Honoré. Very early next morning he called to see the minister, shook hands with him warmly, and expressed his interest in what had just happened. M. Fould explained that the matter concerned one of his sons, who was carrying on foolishly in England. The blunder continued for some time, until the prefect of police inquired the name of his successor; when M. Fould explained that he had given a house-warming in his new house, and had not cared to take the trouble to return to the ministerial residence for the night.
The Carlists here are in despair at Montemolin’s dulness. There is no doubt that he expected Ortega, before his execution, to be overcome by fear, and to renounce his claims. It would have been nobler on his part to have hastened his work, so that no one should be shot. There is a brother living in England who has not abdicated, and who has children. He is called ——, and married a daughter of the duke de ——. He stole his wife’s diamonds, and with the proceeds supports a chambermaid of the aforesaid. This proves him a man of refined taste.
It seems that Lamoricière is already a little tired of all the worries to which he is subjected in papal territory. Cardinal Antonelli said not long ago to a foreign minister that he had never met a more distinguished man than Lamoricière. “I spoke to him of the present situation, and he suggested at once five or six remedies for the difficulty; he is so eloquent that, in an hour’s conversation, he expressed four different opinions on the same question, all of which were so reasonable that I should have found it embarrassing to make a choice.”